


Code Geass: Julius of the Republic

by Freiherr_von_Dorndorf



Series: Code Geass: The Return of Caesar [1]
Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Knightframes, F/M, Military, Original Character(s), Politics, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29695761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freiherr_von_Dorndorf/pseuds/Freiherr_von_Dorndorf
Summary: In 2011, while court intrigues has seen Empress Marianne assassinated and her children, Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally exiled and while the Armies of the Holy Empire of Britannia were invading the Empire of Japan, another important Britannian noble house fell victim of his ambitions: the House of Galahad-Canossa. Years later, the heir of the House, exiled in the European United Republic, is determined to avenge the outrage and restore his House's might and glory.
Series: Code Geass: The Return of Caesar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182299
Kudos: 1





	1. Prolgoue: The Fall From Eden

**Author's Note:**

> This is a remake of a story I posted some 1-2 years ago on Fanfiction. I had decided to rewrite it and improve it, so I hope to have obtained a good result.
> 
> I will be using the Gregorian Calendar instead of the a.t.B., for the very simple reason that it's makes things easier.
> 
> I have decided not to have the knightframes, but instead to focus on contemporary warfare and contemplate some different technologies.
> 
> I am not a big fan of the politically correct and there will be occasions in which my characters will make some controversial remarks. Let me say clearly that this is not the intention and that I do not intent to offend, through the story, any category of people, nation or other groups. It's just how the characters are.
> 
> For the rest, enjoy the reading!

****

Anno Domini 2011.

It was a rainy day of November. A rainy day like many others during that season in the Margraviate of Vermont. Challenging that weather, however, was a huge gathering in the Neo Gothic Mausoleum of the House of Galahad-Canossa, North of the Margraviate capital, Montpelier. 

There had gathered the members of this illustrious House, alongside with other acquired relatives, such as the Orleans and the Farnese and many other illustrious figures from the nobility of the Holy Britannian Empire. 

Eight men then entered the mausoleum, carrying the coffin of Lord Livio Galahad-Canossa, 7th Margrave of Vermont. In front of them, instead, was the Margrave's eldest son, Earl Giulio Galahad-Canossa, a handsome young lad, tall already 170cm, with a fair white skin, black hair, inheritance of his Mediterranean ancestry and dark green eyes, characteristic of his family, elegantly dressed with the red uniform of the Richmond Imperial Military School. He was holding his tears, while bringing on a pillow the collar of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, of which his father was a knight.

The procession ended with the coffin being laid in a sarcophagus in Carrara marble, with the Order's collar. A priest of the Church of Britannia pronounced his last blessings upon the deceased Margrave, and then the sarcophagus was closed forever. Two pipers of the Imperial Regiment of Foot played _Amazing Grace._

Without waiting further, the little heir of the Margrave turned his back to the priest and left the mausoleum, sitting on a bench outside and crying. 

“Giulio!” Exclaimed a little girl, sitting next to him and taking his hand. He stopped, recognising immediately Princess Euphemia li Britannia, his dear friend, with her purple hairs. “I am sorry!” She added, hugging him.

“Thank you, Euphy!” He replied hugging her back.

“I’ll be here… Whatever will happen.” She said again.

Right after her, two other members of the Imperial Family came to his help: Prince Clovis la Britannia, his best friend since childhoon, together with Princess Cornelia li Britannia, who seemed rather distressed.

“Hey Giulio.” Said Clovis, putting a hand on the friend's shoulder. “We're here, in case you need anything.”

“Thanks, Clovis.” He replied with a feeble voice.

"I really mean it." Added the Prince. "But now let's go back inside, we need to be there."

“Allow me to express the deepest condolences on behalf of the Imperial Family.” Said then Princess Cornelia, with a detached, but diplomatic tone.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Replied the young noble.

_________________________________________________

The House of Galahad-Canossa was one of the most ancient noble families of Europe, being of mixed Breton-Italian origin. The legend narrates that they would be direct descendants of Sir Galahad, the finest of King Arthur’s Knights, whose son, after falling into disgrace, left Camelot for Paris, where his descendants remained until the last male heir married Countess Matilde of Canossa and moved to Italy, in the 11th century. Since then, the fate of the family remained tied with that of the city of Modena and later with the House of Este, when the latter became ruler of Ferrara and Modena, after initially defeating them. Even if defeated, they soon allied with the new rulers, remaining extremely influential within the Duchy, until the French invasion of 1793. Only then they were forced to flee, first to Austria and then, after the Battle of Austerlitz in 1805, which marked the end of the Habsburg Monarchy, to London. They finally settled in the New World in 1812, when following the French conquest of the British Isles, most of Europe’s nobility had fled to either the Russian Empire, Brazil, the Ottoman Empire or the Holy Britannian Empire.

Even in the New World the family remained very prominent and influential, by ruling over the Margraviate of Vermont and acquiring a significant economic power, through industries and overseas commerce. However, they also became an important political dynasty by leading the Cavalier Faction, the most reactionary wing of the Conservative Party, which supported the secession of the Southern Fiefs and Constituend Countries during the 1861-65 Civil War. The war ending with the Appomattox Courthouse Compromise of April 1865, had only reinforced their power, allowing them to have three members elected Prime Ministers between 1865 and 1911.

Being so powerful and outspokenly advocating for the so-called “Barons’ Rights” against Imperial Power, the Galahad-Canossa turned, especially throughout the late 20th century into an increasingly uncomfortable family within Britannia’s Empire. This was particularly accentuated after 1984, when the ascension of Emperor Charles II zi Britannia, marked the beginning of the centralisation of the powers and of the infamous Area System.

This was why at the funeral of his father, of the three members of the Imperial Family, two were there because of their personal friendship with Giulio, and a third one looked so uncomfortable. This was also why three days after the funeral, a decree signed by Charles in person was revoking all the titles and properties of the family and banishing all its members from the Empire and its dependencies. In 72 hours from Lord Livio's death, they were nothing but a shadow of what they used to be.

________________________________________________________

The family left Britannia in mid-November, departing from the General Lord William Howe International Airport of New York City. Theirs was an inglorious departure, travelling on a regular flight of Alitalia for the International Airport of Milano-Malpensa, in Italy. Little was left of their patrimony and their noble status was lost. They had completely fallen into disgrace.

Giulio was about to go through the metal detector controls, when he heard someone calling.

“Giulio, wait please!”

As he turned, he found Princess Euphemia, who had a feeble smile and a tear falling on her right cheek.

“Euphy!” He exclaimed, coming to hug her. Behind her was her bodyguard, a young officer of the Coldstream Guards.

“Clovis couldn’t come, as our father has prohibited us to come see you and your family. I still found a way through, thanks to my guard, Sir Jeremiah.”

“I’m happy you did!” He replied, taking her hands.

"Are we seeing each other for the last time?" She asked, about to cry.

“I... I don't know." He replied, with his voice broken. "But in any case, you will always be in my heart… I'll never forget you.” 

She sighed: "I wish I could come with you”

“I wish the same... I don’t even know how we will survive in Europe, they hate people like us there.” His voice was shaken and he was holding himself from crying. 

“You will be fine.” She then said, more confident. “You are a tough guy and I am sure we will overcome anything that they will do against you.”

He nodded. “I hope so.”

“Take this.” She then added, giving him a pendentif in silver, which had engraved on one side Euphemia’s personal crest and on the other a Celtic Cross. “It brings good luck.”

“Thank you, Euphy, I will keep it forever.”

She smiled.

“Giulio! We must go! We have to catch the plane.” Called his mother.

“Go now.” Said Euphemia. “Farewell, Lord Galahad!”

“Farewell, Princess Euphemia!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the painting and if you are not fine in me using it for copyright reasons, please let me know.


	2. How a Devil is Born

  


The return to Europe of the Galahad family had a rather humiliating one, starting with them being forced, as soon as they landed in Milan, to relinquish their religious affiliation to the Church of Britannia and publicly declare their rejection all of Britannia’s values, to behalf of Europe’s republicanism and egalitarianism.

In spite of this initial humiliation and of them being regarded with suspicion by most people, the Galahad-Canossa managed to rebuild a life in the Old World. Giulio’s mother, Lady Charlotte d’Orleans, was a graduate from the School of Law of the Yale Imperial University and as a result, the Faculty of Law of the University of Modena and Reggio was more than happy to hire her as a Tenured Professor. Likewise, all the other members of the family also managed to use their experience and qualifications to obtain well-paid positions either in academia or in private corporations.

If things went quite well for the adults, the youngsters suffered much more, starting with Giulio. Since their first day at school, both Giulio, his little sister Lucrezia and his cousins faced discrimination and bullying from the other kids and even from the teachers, the former being taught to hate the nobility, the monarchy and Britannia and the latter teaching them to do so. 

Giulio was nonetheless a bright and highly skilled student and as a result of this, he managed to be accepted at the Military School “La Nunziatella”, of Naples already in the second year after moving to Italy. There however, once again, his high birth became reason of discrimination and shaming, which often brought him not to be recognised and to have his merits attributed to others. Even facing such discriminations, when he turned 17 he joined the Military Academy of Modena. Where things kept not improving.

Being subject to similar discriminations and humiliations, however, brought him to cultivate a sincere and deep hatred for this new home. He did not have better feelings for Britannia and in particular for Emperor Charles II, on whom he hoped to one day take his revenge, but he equally hated the European United Republic and all it represented. In his empty hours he soon began to read reactionary and nationalist authors, such as Evola, Spengler, Venner, Maurras and many others, which allowed him to articulate and systematise his hatred in an increasingly well defined ideology.

His position in the military, however, prevented him from having any political engagement, a thing that brought him to refrain from joining any of the far-right, nationalist parties where some monarchist sympathisers could still be found. As a result, he decided that the best thing to do was to focus on the military and keep a low profile, also in consideration of how lowly nobles were regarded in the country.

His first contact with the militant extreme-right, however, happened on a cold night of December (Frimaire, in the French Revolutionary Calendar) when he had obtained the permission to leave. He was on his way to his house, located in Viale Tassoni, a Belle Epoque avenue right outside the old town, but that he had to reach by passing through Via degli Abelardi and Rua Muro, a medieval district of the city centre characterised by many abandoned aristocratic palaces and an also abandoned convent, which included the baroque church of Beata Vergine delle Grazie. The street was desert and he passed through it with indifference, contemplating those palaces, once home of some illustrious Modenian families and now occupied by immigrants and desperate Europeans (there were many more than the Republican rhetoric would allow one to think). 

‘Sic transit gloria mundi’ He thought.

Suddenly, however, his reflections were interrupted by music, coming from the basement of a three-store renaissance palace, at the corner between Rua Muro and Via degli Abelardi, which distinguished itself thanks to a small statue, placed at its first floor. Made curious by the music, Giulio went close to the window and looked inside: he saw some sort of underground bar, in which, on a stage, a young female singer with her band, was singing a song that he recalled to be nationalist hymn:

_“La Terra dei Padri, la Fede Immortal_

_Nessuno potrà cancellar_

_Il sangue, il lavoro, la civiltà_

_Cantiamo la Tradizion…”_ *

Intrigued by this finding, he entered the decaying palace, whose gate was opened and then found the entrance of the underground bar. 

The place was large, having a bar area, several tables and the stage he had seen from outside. He also noticed that the audience was very diversified: many were young militants, university and high school students, but there was an equally fair number of older members. He recognised some town councillors for Destra Nazionale (the Italian branch of Droite Européenne) and right-wing journalists and businessmen, as well as a fair number of skinheads and other more violent political activists.

‘The EUR’s worst scum, according to some. Quite exciting.’ He thought. 

The place was very simple: many of the furnitures were old and in iron or improvised with wooden tables, on the walls were hanging posts portraying historical nationalist figures, such as Gabriele D’Annunzio and Italo Balbo, who led Italy in the European Civil War of the 1920s, Ernst Junger, German intellectual and supporter of the nationalists during that same war, Yukio Mishima, the Rochejaquelein brothers and, for his delight, his ancestor Federigo Galahad-Canossa, Marquis of Canossa and commander of the Modenian and later Austrian armies during the Napoleonic War. A devout Catholic, staunch legitimist and one of the most formidable enemies of Napoleon Bonaparte. 

His entrance, still dressed in the Academy’s blue navy ceremonial uniform, left most of the presents surprised and disturbed. With his aristocratic nonchalance, he went closer to the bar. 

“Get me a Martini… No, no, forget about it, a beer is fine. Possibly a lager beer.” He said to a distrustful bartender.

The man gave him a pint of a Czech beer. Giulio drank it. “It’s quite good.”

“It’s three euros.” Said the bartender, which Giulio could assume to be a skinhead.

“Here we go.” He replied, giving him the money.

“First time here, right?” Asked the bartender.

“Exactly. I just found it by incident while passing by and I came down… I was attracted by the music.”

“Ah well-” Muttered the man with a laugh. “She is our special guest tonight.”

“What’s her name?”

“She likes to be called Lidia, it’s her artistic name.” 

Giulio nodded. “I’ll talk to her afterwards.” 

Saying so, he left the bar and entered the multitude, opening his way until the front of the stage. He was surprisingly determined to talk to her.

“Thank you to all of you, _Camerati!_ ” She said, while being cheered. “And now, a classic to conclude: _Europa Nazione_!” 

The girl went on, singing this last song, which had a harsher and belligerent tune:

_“(...)_ _A Roma ad Atene, a Vienna a Parigi_

_Spezziamo le catene gridiamo libertà_

_Euro Britanni a casa, Giacobini alla gogna_

_Europa Nazione Nazione sarà!_

_Risorgi Europa, risorgi sul mondo_

_Risorgi più grande, risorgi con noi_

_Nella tua nuova storia c'è scritto già vittoria_

_Europa Nazione, Nazione sarà_

_Son cento son mille milioni di fiaccole_

_Che s'alzano in alto, insieme a una bandiera_

_I giovani d'Europa, uniti in un sol coro_

_Europa Nazione, Nazione sarà”_ **

She ended amidst the general euphoria, with the people around her doing Roman salutes and shouting many times: “Italia, Europa, Rivoluzione!” 

After they calmed down, she left the stage, being greeted by a bald man that Giulio assumed being the manager of that place. The girl smiled politely and stopped to talk to him. Giulio took the occasion to come closer.

“Congratulations, madame, you are very talented.” He said, as soon as she had finished talking. 

She turned at him and after an initial surprise, smiled. “Thank you, sir.” She said, walking away quickly.

‘Oh, no way, not so easily.’ He thought, walking after her to the bar.

“I’d like a Spritz.” She said to the bartender, who was closing. 

“A Gin Tonic for me. And please, allow me to offer it to you.” Said Giulio, taking a banknote of € 10. 

“There’s no need.” 

“I am more than happy to do it.”

She seemed slightly annoyed. “Well… If you insist.” 

“You haven’t yet told me your name.” Said then the singer to Giulio.

“Giulio.” He preferred not to reveal his family name.

“Call me Lidia, like everyone does.” She said shaking his hand.

“I want to know your real name.” He insisted. 

She was about to replied, when she noticed the ring on Giulio’s right hand.

“Wait, you are a Galahad-Canossa?” She asked with surprise.

“That’s right! What now? You found out I am a noble so you will tell me who you are?”

“Well, sorry for behaving that way, but you know, often it’s either someone flirting with me or the political police coming after me. As for your surname well, it actually does means a lot, considering that your ancestor in on that wall… Plus you know that this palace was the seat of your family?”

“Really?” He asked with surprise.

“I learned about it because of an Art History professor at uni. There are frescoes of the Carracci brothers in here.”

“Well… Home sweet home then!” Exclaimed Giulio. “We should definitely visit it.”

As the bar was being emptied, the manager took Giulio and Lidia to see the noble floor of the palace. The whole building was abandoned and falling apart, with scaffolds on many walls. Here and there, however, some frescoes and marble columns still revealed its ancient glories. Once housing a powerful noble family, it now hosted an abusive colony of Japanese refugees, who fled the Land of Yamato after the Britannian-Japanese War of 2010-11. Its inhabitants were however more than happy to show them the rooms of the Noble Floor, which they tried to keep in the best possible conditions. Walking through them, Giulio could not help but imagine his ancestors, with their tailcoats and tricorne hats receiving illustrious guests, throwing parties or just carrying on their everyday life in those rooms and corridors.

“There’s a dancing hall over there.” Said their guide, an old Japanese from Kyoto, who used to be a university professor before the war.

“Can we see it?” Asked Giulio.

“Yes. But it’s falling apart.”

“I would like to see it anyway.” Said Giulio, who was feeling increasingly saddened at the view of this ancestral seat of his family in such a state.

The ballroom was a huge hall, which still conserved the mirrors, the Louis XVI sofas and the golden decorations on the walls. Only the frescoes on the ceiling had almost entirely disappeared and the chandeliers had all fallen down, lying on the floor with their crystals destroyed and covered by rust.

“This is such a pity.” Said the singer, who was an Art History student. “The paintings were by Giancarlo Aliberti.” 

“We tried to talk to the Department of Fine Arts, but they don’t help. They don’t care at all and it’s a pity because this palace is a unique cultural patrimony.” Said the old professor. 

“Reflects the state of my family, I guess. Falling apart.” Stated Giulio, melancholic. “Anyway, I should go now… I will see if there’s something we can do about this palace, thank you for the tour, sir.”

Before leaving, he greeted the other man and Lidia, with whom he exchanged his phone number, before leaving amidst the falling snow.

Few days later, he left with the family for the Winter holidays to the town of Predazzo, in the Department of Southern Adige (Trento), where they had a holiday house. As by tradition, he spent the holidays there, with his family, celebrating Christmas (although it would not be celebrated in the EUR) and devoting himself to skiing and walking in the mountains. He tried to bring the issue of the palace to the family's attention, but much for his disappointment, nobody seemed to care. To be fair, he started realising how the other members of the family were becoming spoiled and gradually replacing their Britannian warlike ethos with a far more bourgeois European hedonism, as they were being accepted by the European society. Returning from the holidays, he returned to that place, which he found out to be a political circle, many more times, becoming a member of it, while he even ended up having a short-lived affair with Lidia, challenging his mother’s disapproval.

Finally in June, with the end of classes, took place the annual Summer Camp, where the cadets of all years except for the graduating class, of the EUR Army military academies - each member-state had its own Armed Forces that were then subordinated to a European Supreme Command - would spend the whole month of June and part of July undergoing military training. That year it was to take place in the Federal Colony of Goa, a Portuguese-speaking European colony in India.

The summer camp had a few positive outcomes for Giulio: first of them, he could show his military abilities on the field, so that nobody could deny them, in second place, being in contact with cadets from other military academies, he had the chance to meet some like-minded people, with whom he could establish a relation of friendship, which he failed to have with his colleagues in Modena.

“Let me say that your maneuver to surround and capture a whole armoured unit has just been brilliant.” Said Peter Winkelman, a cadet from the Military Academy of Breda (Netherlands). Sitting next to Giulio, as they were having lunch in the shed that served as a cafeteria.

“Thank you, sir. But let me say that they have made the biggest mistake, as they thought that they could drive the panzers inside the jungle, instead of keeping them to support the infantry.”

“Their problem was that the Panzer Hummel is crap and anyone sane would have had them replaced by this point. But no, our Federal Government needs to use the Army to satisfy a few lobbyists, so that’s what we get.” Observed Friedrich Guderian, a cadet from the Potsdam Kriegsschule. 

“In any case, tell the truth, it was your Britannian soul that made you launch that assault on the armoured battalion.” Joked Peter.

“Well, maybe it was… Maybe the spirit of Marquis Federigo guided me.” Replied Giulio laughing.

“No, please. No monarchism at this table.” Warned Friedrich, laughing.

“Not that it wouldn’t solve many problems of the EUR.” Commented Peter.

“I cannot help but agree.” Replied Giulio. “The Republic brings fragmentation, oligarchism and disorder. That’s why in the 1989-1991 War the Brits had beaten us. Europe’s political class couldn’t agree on the strategies to respond to them and the European Parliament had way too much influence over military matters. The result was the loss of the whole of Russia.”

“I totally agree with you!” Replied Peter. “Man, down with the French Revolution! It screwed all of us.”

“Guys, for Heaven’s sake, stop this!” Intervened Friedrich quite alarmed. “Monarchism is illegal, did you just forgot?”

At that moment, they were distracted by a loud discussion, happening on a corner of the building.

“What’s that now?” Asked Friedrich.

Giulio looked. He immediately noticed three cadets. One from the Military Academy of Saint-Cyr (France), one from the Theresianische Militarakademie of Wiener-Neustadt (Austria) and one from Modena, whom he recognised well, who were insulting and beating a blond girl while another, with light purple haird was trying to push them away.

“Oh no…” Complained Giulio. “It’s Davide Petris… As always after the freshers.”

“Who?” Asked Peter. 

“A moron.” Replied Giulio. “Let me go set my differences with him once for all.”

Saying so, Giulio left the table and headed in the direction of the three guys.

“Davide Petris, not happy of having scored so far the worse result among all of us, you now have also found a gang to go after the freshers.”

Davide punched the girl once again, leaving her with her mouth spilling blood and going after Giulio. “Haven’t you had enough yet, Lady Galahad? Or you want to be humiliated in front of everyone here?” Saying so, Petris took him by the collar of his shirt.

“I just think you should be a gentleman and leave the girls alone.”

“Oh… You nobles are all convinced of being brave knights. Very well, I’ll show you what you get with that.”

Davide had raised his hand to punch him, but in the moment in which he made the movement to hit Giulio, the young Britannian noble took a knife from the near table and stuck it into Davide’s hand, making the blood spill in all the directions. The bully yelled in pain.

“Bastard! You fucking bastard!”

Giulio smirked, showing his satisfaction.

The other two were about to go on him, but Peter and Friedrich intervened, stopping them with their ordinance guns.

“I suggest that you take your friend to the doctor. It may not be the case to escalate this.” Said Friedrich.

“Yeah, let’s go, it’s not worth it.” Said the guy from Vienna and the three bullies left.

“Are you alright?” Asked Giulio to the girl, who was now cleaning her mouth with a napkin.

“Yes, thanks, I think I am.” She replied.

“Shouldn’t you go to the doctor? I can go there with you, if you want.” Added the Britannian noble.

“No, no, thanks. I think some ice will be sufficient…” She raised her head and smiled at him. “May at least know the name of the gentlemen who intervened in my defence?” 

“Sure, Giulio Galahad-Canossa, from the Military Academy of Modena. They are Peter Winkelman and Friedrich Guderian.”

“Pleased to meet you!” She replied, shaking their hands. “I am Leila Malcal and she is Anna Clément, my best friend, we’re both from Saint-Cyr.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” Replied Giulio. “ _Donc vous êtes françaises, ou pas?_ ”

“ _Parisiénne_ and proud of it.” Said Anna smiling.

“Same for me, but by adoption, as my natural parents came from Britannia. From Philadelphia, to be specific.”

“So a half-Britannian? I’m from there, although I have been living in Italy for many years now.”

“Wait, you are the guy of the maneuvers in the jungle in the past days, right? People have talked a lot about you.”

“Really?” He asked back with surprise, he then turned at his friends. “See guys? I am famous.” 

“Well, why don’t you sit with us?” Proposed Anna. “We can have lunch together.” 

The three had just sat down with the girls, when the commander of the camp, Colonel Martin Valois, entered the cafeteria infuriated.

“Cadet Galahad-Canossa Giulio, from the Military Academy of Modena.” He called. Giulio stood up. “With me, to my office.” 

Giulio was kept inside the Commander’s officer for nearly one hour. Outside, waiting for him, were Leila Malcal and his two friends.

“How did it go?” Asked Leila, when he came out.

“Guderian, Winkelman, both of you inside.” Ordered the commander.

“Well, we will have to face a disciplinary process.” Replied Giulio.

“Ah, I’m sorry! Plus it’s unfair… they started.” Exclaimed the girl.

“I’ll be fine. It was under everybody’s eyes that I wasn’t the aggressor. Even if the commander dislikes me, he will have to accept it.”

“This is true. But it’s also true that you are a Britannian and I am a half-Britannian.”

“And you think this will matter more than the fact of those three being a bunch of idiots?”

“Let’s hope not, but sometimes people here have a strange notion of justice. Anyway, why don’t we go somewhere else now and forget about it?”

“You’re right, there’s a lake, downhill, almost nobody goes there. We can spend some time there.”

“Sure, good idea!”

In spite of their hopes, the disciplinary process took a much bigger dimension than they expected. Many cadets, in particular those from Modena, Sandhurst and Saint-Cyr, be it for personal reasons or political ones (antipathy for Britannia and the nobility, which for them Giulio and Leila represented), became to support the three bullies and present fake witnesses in their favour to an already biased Disciplinary Commission. This however, brought to another unexpected turn: many German, Polish, Hungarian and Austrian cadets instead, who held more conservative and sometimes even pro-monarchist views, began to support Giulio and his friends, offering instead witnesses in their favour and even becoming closer to them.

As he began to make friends among those cadets, many of them started expressing their view to Giulio, Peter and Friedrich and in a few days the idea of forming some politically-motivated network began to circulate. Finally, one night Giulio was woken up in his tent, around 3 a.m. by a female Polish cadet that he had met.

“Sir, wake up. We need to talk.”

“What? What?” Giulio asked.

“I need you to dress up and follow me. It’s important.”

Giulio would have never trusted such an invitation coming from one of his colleagues from Modena, but this cadet from Warsaw was one of his supporters during the ongoing disciplinary action, so he accepted to follow him.

He walked with the cadet outside the camp and then in the middle of the forest.

“Where are you taking me?” Asked Giulio.

“To a meeting. We thought it could interest you.”

“Why? What are we going to discuss?” 

“Well, we know you are dissatisfied with the Republic, just like us.”

“Well…”

“Would you be willing to act?” 

“Wait, are you taking me to a monarchist meeting?”

The Polish girl did not answer, instead he kept walking.

They reached an open space, in the middle of the jungle, delimited by torches.

“Glad to see you, Lord Galahad.” Said Friedrich Guderian, when they arrived. He was standing in the middle of the other cadets, who were standing around him, he had a proud expression.

“Friedrich, what the Hell-”

“You’ll find out soon. Please, ladies and gentlemen, now let’s all take a seat. Giulio, Peter, please, sit next to me.”

They all sat in a semicircle, with Friedrich and his two friends standing in front of them.

“Fellow cadets, I believe you all know the reason for which you are here.” Starte Friedrich. “What has happened in the past few days, I believe, has shown to all of us that there are two faction within our academic cohorts: those who stand for Europe and those who stand for the Republic. Here today are gathered all those who share, at least to some extent, our same ideas and it is my and my friends’ intention to reunite all of us in a permanent society.”

Giulio smirked. That was exactly what he needed and was being served to him on a silver tray. His time spent with those underground extremists in Modena might have been amusing, but he knew it wouldn't have brought any results. This time however, it was different and a network of like-minded people in the Army could bring him important results.

“Yet, I want now to let my dear friend Giulio speak.” Concluded Friedrich. “As I believe that him, as a descendant of Marquess Federigo Galahad-Canossa should have many things to tell us.”

He stood up and spoke spontaneously, letting all his hatred flow and come out at once:

“Good evening, my comrades-in-arms,

I think by this point you all know me, where I am from and whom I am a descendant of. I will be short. My detractors say that I am a potential traitor and that I hate Europe: Lies! I am not a traitor. Europe is the land of my ancestors and I can only wish for its best. However I wholeheartedly hate the French Revolution and its materialistic and anti-natural philosophy. During my years here, I’ve seen how this sick ideology, animated by a false religion like the masonic Cult of the Supreme Being has been corrupting the soul of our people and ruining our civilisation. But we, as the warrior caste, must put an end to this abomination: we must purge our land of those parasites and build a new Europe, based on blood and soil, not on gold or any Revolutionary abomination.

All Hail Europa!”

Everybody stood silent, looking at him. Clearly, nobody expected such a speech. For a moment, Giulio even feared having exaggerated and ruined everything.

Finally, from the back, a Hungarian cadet from the first year stood up, raised his right arm in a Roman salute and shouted:

“All Hail Europa! All Hail Europa! All Hail Europa!” 

Right after all the others imitated him and standing up, repeated that battlecry, while also raising their right arms in the Roman salute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The song is the Italian version of "Tomorrow Belongs to Me", from the musical "Cabaret", which has become a sort of anthem to some fringes of the Italian right. Translated, it would sound somehow like that:
> 
> The land of the forefathers,  
> The immortal faith  
> Nobody will ever cancel,  
> Blood, labour, civilisation,  
> We sing the tradition
> 
> ** This is another italian song, which although carrying a Pan-European message, still belongs to the nationalist right. Translating:
> 
> In Rome, in Athens, in Vienna, in Paris  
> Let's broke our chains, let's shout freedom  
> Euro Britannians (Americans in the original) go home, Jacobins to the pillory (Communists in the steppe, in the original)  
> Europe one nation, one nation shall be!
> 
> You rise again, Europe, rise above the world  
> Rise greater, rise with us  
> In your new history there's already written victory  
> Europe one nation, one nation shall be!
> 
> It's a hundred, a thousand, a million torches  
> Which rais high, together with a flag  
> The youth of Europe, united in a single choir  
> Europe one nation, one nation shall be!


	3. "Tenent Galahad-Canossa, of the 12th Alpine Regiment"

Returning to Italy, Giulio reached his family in the holiday house in Predazzo, where they would usually be in summer. Once there, while telling to his mother and sister about his adventures in India, he mentioned Leila Malcal and her story as a half-Britannian noble adopted by the Malcal family. As he told about her, his mother suddenly took a very interested expression… 

“Leila Malcal? Of course, I remember her!” She exclaimed.

“What? Mom, what are you talking about?” Asked Back Giulio.

“She is the daughter of your father’s cousin, Bradow von Breisgau, you have a great-grandfather in common. Her real name should be Leila von Breisgau. How is she?”

“She is… well, she is stunning, mom. Truly beautiful and she’s studying at Saint-Cyr.”

“Such good luck that you found her. I hope you will keep in touch.”

“Indeed, we are already, mom..” 

“This is good. We should rescue her from the despicable family that adopted her.”

“Who adopted her?”

“The Malcal family. They own the Banque de Saint Denis.”

“They must be rich.” Observed Lucrezia, who had listened to all the conversation quietly..

“Indeed.” Said her mother bitterly. “Tremendously rich. Yet a despicable bunch of financial speculators, connected with the international jewry and active supporters of the _Parti Républicain Radical_. They are the scumbags who promoted a campaign to deny us the status of refugees, when we moved back here. This, at the same time that the old Errant Jew Adam Malcal wants his son to marry Leila.”

“Mom, how in heaven do you know of all of this?” Asked Giulio.

“Well, I have my sources. Still, if you can, keep contact with her and let’s try to take her out of the reach of those parasites.”

For once, Giulio fully agreed with his mother and kept corresponding with Leila, trying to find a good occasion to meet her again. Since they had met in Goa, he had been developing some feelings for her, which only grew as he get to know her better. While she, just like her biological father and that branch of the family before her would have diametrically opposed ideas to those of the Galahad-Canossa, Giulio and Leila had nonetheless many things in common, in terms of interests, things they enjoyed to do and there was since the beginning a strong affinity between them. Not particularly lucky with women and not helped by his inclination to be terribly selective, Giulio was particularly happy for having found someone to whom he could actually feel attached.

However, courting Leila was not the only important thing happening in Giulio’s life. Indeed, from the meeting in the Indian forest during the previous summer, was slowly emerging a network of young political dissidents across the Armed Forces and the Intelligence, willing to overthrow the republic and to promote nationalism and monarchism. Those dissidents, present mainly in Central and Eastern Europe, but also in lesser numbers in Italy and Western Europe (in particular in Spain and Portugal), were now being organised, under Giulio’s leadership, in a secret society, which they called Order of the Horatii. 

Inspired in the Horatii of the Roman myth, who gave their lives to save Rome from the neighbouring Alba Longa, this secret society had as its final aim that of overthrowing the old European United Republic and replace it with a military regime, which would have had at its core ideologies such as nationalism, militarism and reactionarism. As they structured it, they defined the criterias for admission, the ritual to be followed, the official philosophy (mixing the three ideologies) and introduced the practice of the Mensur, the German Academic Fencing, as a way for its male members to measure their valour and bravery.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In October 2013 (Vendemiaire 222), in Giulio’s last year of Military Academy, he managed to meet Leila in Montreux, a pleasant town on the Lake Leman, in Switzerland, outside the EUR. There they could finally spend a weekend on their own, enjoying the beautiful landscapes that the town offered, long walks on the lakeside and the fancy restaurants and cafés of the city.

“Montreux is always wonderful, isn’t it?” Said Leila, one evening that they were walking on the lakeside, after dinner.

“It is… Even if in the evening it just gets too quiet.” Replied Giulio, looking around.

“Oh come on, you and your obsession with nightlife.” Joked Leila. “Did you know that even Dostoevskij has been here?” Asked Leila, pointing at a bench in which a silhouette in metal showed his name.

“I did. He lived in Vey Vey, near here. Not only him, by the way, if I recall well also Léon Daudet and many other important writers.”

They stopped in front of a panoramic terrace, where they could sit down on a bench, facing the Lac Leman. The sky was completely clean and above them the stars and a full Moon were shining bright. In front of them, was the other shore of the Lake, already France, with its lights revealing where the towns were. They stood silent for a few instants, admiring that beautiful scene, before Giulio took Leila’s hand and kissed her neck.

“Giulio, I am not sure we should…” 

“Why not?” He asked, kissing her lips, yet she retracted. “Leila, I love you with all my heart and we are perfect for each other.”  
“Giulio, we even share the same blood!” 

“And so? Wasn’t this the case many times in the past? Plus this should even be a further reason, as we both come from the finest European nobility.” 

She recomposed herself. Her manners were gracious and delicate, yet peremptory, revealing her aristocratic upbringing, all this, was crowned by an almost involuntary sensuality that seemed to be naturally part of her and that would leave Giulio inflamed.

“Giulio, darling, you know I am promised as a spouse to my half-brother Ioan Malcal.”

“And isn’t this even more despicable? They only raised you for this purpose, to be their connection to the aristocracy.” 

She closed her eyes and sighed, then opened her mouth, trying to formulate a response. Giulio however was faster and before she could say anything, went on kissing her, now with more insistence. She again, initially, tried to retract herself, but soon gave up, instead embracing him.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following month, for the occasion of the celebration of the pagan festival of Samhain, Giulio travelled to Lake Nemorensis, in Latium, where the ritual founding of the Order of the Horatii would have taken place.

He and his followers had all gathered in the ruins of what must have been once a Dominican monastery, more specifically in the former chapel, in order to perform the rite. There they began by invoking the ancient Gods of Rome, in particular Hermes, as the God of secrets, they rose their right arm and pronounced the following oath:

“Under the vigilance of Mercurius, protector of secrets and with the blessings of the Gods of our People, I, (name), do solemnly promise that I will devout my life to the reconstruction of the Europa. I promise that I will fight all its enemies, both internal and external and purge its green and prosperous fields from the claws of international jewry. I do promise that I won’t know peace, until Rome will be restored to its former glory and the Pax Deorum re-established. I do promise that I shall observe the rules and respect the hierarchies of the Order of the Horatii and serve the Order in its mission to save, at any cost, the Europa. Thus, may the Gods help me.”

The taking of the solemn oath was followed by their battlecry: “All Hail Europa!” 

After that, it followed a banquet and then, the first display of Mensur in centuries. In the mensur, the two opponents have to stand and duel, aiming at each other’s face, while not moving any part of their body. While there is no clear winner, the aim of the duel will be that of measuring the ability of each opponent to tolerate pain and stand in front of peril. The cadets resumed this practice from the extinguished Burschenschaften, student fraternities that existed in Pre-Revolutionary Germany, and began to practice it both as an instrument for initiation, as well as a way to measure themselves and prove their courage.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since then, they kept their relationship secret, at least to the Malcal family, which they knew would have disapproved it, all of this with the support of Lady Charlotte, who not only felt attached to Leila because of the family bonds, but was also happy to see Giulio with a girl that she deemed as “suitable” (in other words, who had noble blood). 

In the meantime, in Prairial 223 (early June 2014) came Giulio’s graduation, a solemn ceremony to be held in the Palazzo Ducale, headquarters of the military academy, in Modena. There, at the _Bal des Débutantes,_ which took place the day before the Oath Ceremony, Giulio made his entrance accompanied by Leila, who was also wearing her ceremonial uniform from the Military Academy of Saint-Cyr.

As they made their entrance, the other presents could not help but showing their surprise: 

“Look how gorgeous!”

“What an astonishing young lady!”

“This is quite a surprise from Giulio!”

“What a pleasure to have you at table with us.” Said Damiano Sala, a Milanese cadet and head of the class (in spite of his grades being slightly lower than Giulio’s). “And allow me to say that you have a gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Thank you.” Said Leila faking a smile. Unlike Giulio, she detested parties.

“It’s a pleasure for us as well.” Replied Giulio. He was also lying. He knew well that Damiano was just showing a fake courtesy, as throughout the course, never showed any consideration for him.

“Where did you meet, if I may ask?” Asked a _débutante_ , who was there accompanying Pietro Bonomi, a cadet from Brescia with whom Giulio had a more cordial relation.

“During the summer exercises in Goa.” Replied Giulio.

“Basically, a bully attacked Leila and then they beated him up.” Explained Pietro with some amusement.

“Really?” Asked the girl, surprised.

“Oh yes. Then we tied him to a tree in the jungle and left him there for three days and three nights.” Joked Giulio.

“Giulio, stop telling nonsense!” Exclaimed Leila, laughing at the joke. “Sorry, it was nothing like that. Basically the bully attacked me and he intervened, then we all ended up talking to the camp commander.”

“In any case, that’s very chivalrous from your part.” Said the other girl.

“Then he almost risked being discharged from the academy.” Added Leila.

“Well, I think I have risked for a just cause.” Replied Giulio.

Pietro shook his head and laughed. “Indeed, there’s nothing to do. You’re a Britannian, my friend, there’s nothing to do about that.”

“Oh come on, there were many heroic Europeans too in the past, just think of Gabriele D’Annunzio, Ernst Junger…”

Everybody looked at him appalled. Only Pietro was now laughing while joking about Giulio’s political moderation.

“Giulio, please, stop it.” Said Leila alarmed.

“Why don’t you talk a bit about Goa instead? What does it look like? I’ve heard there is a strong Portuguese legacy.” Said the débutante, seeking to dissipate that moment of embarrassment.

“Indeed, it’s a fascinating place.” Replied Giulio. “It almost looks like Portugal. Pangim, the capital, is basically a Portuguese city and there is also a quite large European community living there. Moreover, you have the mixed population and the Hindus, each of them with a very distinct culture. It’s quite unique.”

“Well, there’s also Pondicherry.” Observed Damiano. “Which is the French-speaking city of the European India, together with Chandernagor.”

The conversation went on with them talking about Goa and their experiences in India during the previous summer. Finally, after the dinner, the dances were opened by the cadets and the débutantes dancing at the sound of Giuseppe Verdi’s _Valzer Brillante._

The following day, as by schedule, the Oath Ceremony took place. First, the cadets gathered in Piazza d’Armi, near the citadel, from where began their parade, going through Via Emilia, the city’s main street, then turning on the elegant Corso Canal Grande and finally entering Piazza Roma, located right in front of the Palazzo Ducale. There, “Under the Auspices of the Supreme Being”, they pronounced their oath of loyalty to the Values of the Revolution, to the EUR and to the Italian Republic, in order of importance. The ceremony happened with the presence of President Carlo Andreotti, the old and conservative President of the Italian Republic and of the Federal President, the socialist Gerhard Schroeder. Among the notable guests was also the Malcal Family, who came upon Leila’s insistence, once that both her and Giulio wanted their consensus for their engagement.

In this way, as the ceremony ended, they all gathered at the Galahad-Canossa’s house, a Liberty-style villa in Viale Tassoni, to celebrate.

“So, where will you be assigned now that you have graduated?” Asked Stéphane Malcal, the family’s first born to Giulio.

“I’ve been assigned to the ‘Tridentina’, the Alpine Division. I’m still waiting for further details, but I have asked for the field service.” Replied Giulio.

“So the mountaineers. Must be a quite fascinating position. I guess you would then be deployed in Bolzano.”

“That will depend, the regiments are spread all over the departments of South and North Adige.”

“I see. In this case cheers, to the ‘Tridentina’.” Said Stéphane, raising his glass of Dom Pérignon.

“To the Alpini!” Replied Giulio, raising his own.

In the meantime, Leila had managed to gather her parents, Lady Charlotte and her other brothers.

“Stéphane, Giulio, would you mind coming for one moment?”

They came.

“Sure, what’s happening?” Asked Giulio, clueless.

“Well, we should tell them one thing. Shouldn’t we.” Answered Leila.

“Ah true.” He replied.

Everybody was looking at them, already knowing what to expect.

“Well.” Started Giulio. “Monsieur Malcal, I would like to ask you for your daughter’s hand.”

The man turned pale and started thinking of a diplomatic way to decline.

“Dad, this is not fair!” Protested Ioan Malcal, who would have married Leila.

“Allow me to speak in favour of my son.” Said Lady Charlotte, aware of the imminent decline. “Although the economic situation has not been in our favour, we remain one of the oldest noble families of Europe and as for my son, he is a responsible gentleman, with a sense of honour and a brilliant military career in perspective.”

“Dad, allow me to remind you that his career will likely be jeopardised by his origins and that they will unlikely let him become anyone important, ever.” Insisted Ioan.

“Mr. Malcal, allow me to remind you that because of our origin we shouldn’t be dismissed as if we were some insignificant commoners from the periphery.” Added Charlotte, pretending some offence.

The old Adam Malcal looked at his cane. Thinking of what to say. He then spoke:

“I guess _amor vincit omnia._ Both what my son and Lady Charlotte say is right. Yet, if I were to deny you the permission, you would likely keep a secret relationship anyway. For this reason, while I cannot say I am completely happy with this arrangement, I will refrain from objecting.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

During that same summer, however, the political situation of Europe was quickly degenerating. At the last national elections, in the Spring 2014, the Rassemblement Populaire, left-wing coalition, obtained the majority, with the Parti Republicain Radical, of liberal orientation, beating the Parti Socialiste Européen, bringing to the replacement of the socialist President Gerhard Schroeder with the liberal Jean-Marie Clemenceau. Entering in office, Clemenceau found himself forced to face the escalation of tensions in the Far East, while his coalition’s anti-militarism made impossible any increasing army expenditure or expansion of the Armed Forces.

At the time, tensions were mainly between the EUR, and the Peking Pact: a union encompassing the Indian Empire and the Chinese Federation, which disputed the sovereignty over the European colonies in India (Goa, Daman, Diu, Pondicherry), China (Hong Kong, Macau) and Southeast Asia (Indochina and the Philippines). In this context, if Schroeder had been working to de-escalate and find an agreement with the two countries, Clemenceau took a completely different approach, seeking a direct confrontation with both China and India.

While all this was happening, Giulio had his holidays with his family and with Leila in Positano, after which he then reached the headquarters of his unit, the 12th Alpine Regiment “Fiemme e Fassa”, in Cavalese, near Predazzo.

He arrived in Cavalese on a Primidi (first day of the Revolutionary week) afternoon, being welcomed at the regiment’s barracks by the commander: Colonel Massimo Bosin, a middle-aged man from Belluno, in Veneto.

“Tenent Galahad-Canossa Giulio, Sir. ID Number 130755, Sir. Orders?” Pronounced Giulio, saluting his superior.

“At ease, Tenent Galahad-Canossa.” Replied the colonel. “I am Colonel Massimo Bosin and I welcome you to the 12th Alpine Regiment ‘Fiemme e Fassa’.”

“Thank you, Sir. It’s an honour to serve in this unit.”

“Glad to hear, Sir. Now, if you want to follow me, I will introduce you to your unit.”

Giulio followed the man into the barracks where the soldiers were staying. Like for most of the units of the Italian Army, the soldiers of the “Tridentina” were mostly conscripts. Mandatory conscription was not a common practice in the EUR, but was circumscribed to France, Prussia, the Confederacy of the Rhine, Italy and Poland, which, for the extreme distaste of their national government, provided alone for 70% of the defence budget and armed forces and had to implement both male and female conscription to compensate for the other countries’ lack of investments in the military.

“5th Platoon in line, all-right!” Commanded the Colonel as they entered the section reserved to Giulio’s platoon. Immediately a group of 50 young men and women (between 17-18) came up from their respective dormitories and aligned in front of Giulio, saluting him and the commander. 

“Sir, I introduce you to the 5th Platoon, which you will command. All of them from these valleys and high school graduates, you should be more or less the same age, I think. Also, they have already been in basic training, which should help you.” Said the Colonel, before turning to the troop. “Soldiers, here is Tenent Giulio Galahad-Canossa, graduate from the Military Academy with the highest grades. You are almost of the same age and I have good reasons to believe that you will understand each other well. Also, from what I have been told he is a Britannian, so expect him to have no mercy with anyone who will prove himself unfit for service.

At those words Giulio smirked, it was the first time his origin was being mentioned in a positive way.

“That said, I am sure I leave you in good hands. Now Tenent, the floor is yours. I will leave you with the troop.”

Giulio saluted his superior, who then left. He then looked at his soldiers: ‘A bunch of high schoolers who must think that this is some sort of summer camp. This will be fun.’ He though.

“Now you will listen to me.” He started. “I know that probably none of you is happy to be here, but here you are and I cannot care less about how you feel, I am here to turn you into war machines to defend the Republic and this is what I will do. Is it clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Replied them together.

“Very well, then let me be clear that I expect from you full compliance with my orders and discipline, which includes not leaving your dormitory looking like a pigsty as you have. Disobey my orders and you will be punished, show incompetence and you will suffer for it, is it clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Replied the young recruits, who now seemed now intimidated by the new officer.

“Good. I will come back in two hours and I want to see this place clean and ordered, otherwise, you will spend the night marching up Mount Cauriol. That said, we shall start tomorrow at 2:00 a.m.. I want to see all of you on the patio, beards shaved and uniforms in order as we shall leave for the Marmolada and attempt an ascension to Punta Penia. Now at ease, soldiers.”

The following morning they departed as per schedule with military buses, to reach Mount Marmolada, where they began the climbing. With that first exercise, Giulio wanted to test his soldiers’ resistance and reliability, other than seeing how disciplined they would be and how they would behave in that context.

While heavy for most of his soldiers, the exercise was somewhat pleasing and even a relief for Giulio. He was happy to breathe the pure air of the mountains, while admiring those landscapes, with their high, white mountains, glaciers and pine forests that he had loved since the first time he went there, in the distant 2011. 

“Sir, should we take a break?” Asked Second Lieutenant Giovanni Morandini, an officer promoted from the ranks of the previous cohort. 

Giulio checked his pocket watch. “Are the soldiers tired?” 

“A bit, Sir. We have been walking for two hours and a half.” 

“We shall walk for at least one hour more, then we can stop.” 

“Sir, with all the due respect, the soldiers are tired and they should eat something.”

“And they will, after three hours walking.”

“Sir, any other officer would have agreed on stopping after two…”

“Any other officer has spoiled you all too much and convinced you that this is a summer camp. The Britannian Highlander Divisions do three hours and I will also do three hours as well, Sir. I think I’ve been quite clear on what my expectations are.”

They kept going up for another hour, before Giulio authorised them to stop in an open space where all the 50 soldiers could stay comfortably. Giulio sat on a corner which looked to the East, so that he could look at the sunrise. He pronounced a few prayers to the _Genus Loci_ , the local deities in the Roman Pantheon, offering them some of his food, then started eating his breakfast.

A girl from the unit, whom he knew as Isabella Zorzi went to sit next to him. She was a beautiful girl with half-Austrian, with two wide blue eyes. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

“Apple juice?” She asked, offering him her bottle.

“Thanks, I am fine.” He replied.

“It’s always a nice place to come, this one.”

“Yes, yes, indeed. I climbed it for the first time when I was fifteen.” Replied Giulio. 

“Really? I did it for the first time when I was ten, with my family.”

“That’s impressive.” Replied Giulio, letting himself go and socialising with the soldier.

“Well, my father was an Alpinist, so I was used to it since my childhood. Most people here however don’t come up to such heights, at least not often and in basic training we didn’t do it often either. This is why they all look so tired.

“Really? Well, in this case I should speak to them.” Replied Giulio, standing up and heading to the centre of the group.

“Soldiers! What we are doing today is nothing more than a walk in the mountains, something that a unit like yours should have no problems in doing, but that for many of you is turning to be a struggle. This places you behind the Britannian Highlander Divisions, the Indian Gurkhas and even the Chinese Mountain Combined Arms Brigade, who are all subject to a much harsher training than yours and are mostly professionals. I don’t blame it on you, it’s neither yours nor my fault, yet I intend to do my best to make sure at least this platoon will be at a competitive level and serve as an example for the others. Let me clarify one last thing, the strength of a military unit lies in the cohesion of the primary group. We don’t have to like each other personally or have many things in common, but we have the same duty and we share the same mission and should we go to war, we will share the same need to survive. This means that as a unit we must remain united and always ready to help each other, in order words, never abandon a comrade. Is it clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” They replied together. 

“I can’t hear you!” Shouted Giulio.

“Sir, yes sir!”

They continued their ascension to the mountain, this time going slower and taking more breaks, once that as they reached higher altitudes, the air became more rarefied. 

“Sir, if I may ask, are you familiar with the works of Julius Evola?” Asked Isabella, in a completely random and unexpected way, as they were walking.

“Evola? Of course, I am.” Replied Giulio, completely disoriented by the question. “Why? You know his books are forbidden in the European Republic, don’t you?”

She shrugged her shoulders and laughed delicately. “I only have some old versions. I just asked because of his writing on alpinism, as he loved it too.”

“Indeed, indeed. Which is why he was buried in the Monterosa.” Replied Giulio.

“So you are also familiarised with him, aren’t you?” Asked Isabella, almost with a triumphant tone.

“In a way.” Replied Giulio with nonchalance.

“I would like to pay homage to him at his burial site, at some point.”

“Well, if they don’t arrest you for spreading his ideas first, it may be nice.” Said Giulio, who was really finding uncomfortable the random way in which she had started discussing such a delicate issue. Yet, he also failed to stop here, as he could easily have done so.

“Am I at risk with you, Sir?”  
“Of course not.” Scoffed Giulio. “Although everyone’s eyes are on me, when it comes to such matters.”

They remained silent for some time, then Giulio resumed:

“I recall in _Meditation on the Peaks_ he presented the practice of Alpinism as a form of ascesis, or of fight against the decadent, bourgeois element that lies in our soul, which I thought to be a fascinating way of seeing it.”

“Indeed, it is. I think we can also connect it with Nietzsche’s _ubermensch_ , don’t you think? Zarathustra, for instance, always retreats to a mountain.”

“Well, yes.” Replied Giulio. “Although I think it’s because of the symbol of the mountain, in ancient traditions being a connection between the men and the Gods or anyway the divine. Do you recall the myth regarding Friedrich II in the Kyffhäuser?”

“Indeed sir.” Agreed Isabella. “Makes perfectly sense. And as for Friedrich II I know the myth well and do hope that the ravens have already ceased flying around the mountain.”

Giulio looked at her with a surprised smile. He was indeed pleased and amused for having found someone with ideas close to his in such context. “And I think you should be very careful in saying this kind of stuff in the Army.”

After that first ascension, followed many others, on the other nearby mountains, together with an intensive and harsh training, which many of the other officers regarded as unnecessarily harsh and even cruel. Yet, Giulio did not care: he wanted his platoon to be an example and he was determined to obtain it. Furthermore, during the free hours, he would spend entire hours walking and chatting with Isabella, with whom he soon came to find that shared many common interests.

“You know, once my father was a Professor at the University of Trento: he taught Classics.” Said Isabella, during one of these walks. It was a chilly night of mid-summer and they were walking on the shore of the river Avisio, near the Cermis ski station.

“That’s fascinating, why did he stop, then?”

“They wanted him to teach according to the positivist method and disregard any approach to the ancient civilisations that did not treat their religious views as primitive and complied with the Revolutionary Ideology. So he left to join the _Guardia Forestale_ and practice Alpinism.”

“A good choice, I would say.”

“He keeps studying what he likes in his free time, so I guess so.”

“And it’s such a good thing that he passed to you his knowledge and education.”

“Thank you.” Replied the girl. “After the military service I also plan on going to the university, yet I think of studying law.”

“Why law and not classics or humanities like your father? You seem to like it more.” Asked Giulio. 

“Indeed, but I don’t want to go through his same situation.”

“You’re right, indeed.” 

“Look there! Deers!” Exclaimed Isabella pointing at the other shore.

“How beautiful!” Exclaimed Giulio. “Look, now they are staring at us.”

The animals, four in total, had raised their heads to look at them, with their majestic horns before disappearing in the forest.

Days later, on the 14th Thermidor (1st of August), for the occasion of Giulio’s birthday, he and Isabella went to celebrate his birthday in a small restaurant downtown. They were having a good time there, having their dinner, and discussing their usual topics and without paying attention at the news displayed by a TV in the place, which talked of a major incident in the South China Sea. However, their dinner was abruptly interrupted by an officer from the regiment, a captain who entered the place, looking for them. Both stood up and saluted him.

“So, here’s where you are, I had to look for you throughout the whole town. Plus you shouldn’t even be together and you know it well.” He started already angered. “For your luck, at the time this is our last concern.”

“Sir, I don’t understand. What’s happening?” Asked Giulio.

“The colonel has recalled all the soldiers and officers who were on leave. We are under orders to depart tomorrow for Indochina. The whole division is to be urgently deployed in Northern Vietnam.”


End file.
